


Lupine Caprice

by blind_bombshell



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, Madancy Multiverse - Fandom
Genre: Canon Autistic Character, Don't Examine This Too Closely, First Meetings, I want to write this but I got nothing, M/M, Mates, No Ending, No Smut, Soulmates, Spacedogs, Werewolf Mates, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:27:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9361823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blind_bombshell/pseuds/blind_bombshell
Summary: Rather than shooting Nigel to remove him from her life, Gabi instead blackmails him with a video of his shift into a werewolf so she can have her Happy Ending with Charlie. Adam is still Adam (I hope, anyway)Werewolves (and other supernatural humanoids) exist, with humans around the world having various levels of understanding of their existence and cultures.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I wanted to write this - a universe much like our own where magical beings exist and the fables we tell our young being like training wheels for the Real World. Nigel is a werewolf, Adam is a human (and stays human, as long as possible) - a long courtship was planned, including a lot of world-building. I wanted this to be as in-character as possible, considering the AU-ness and the Madancy multiverse, and realistic (seemingly plausible, at least). Instead, my Adam is way too accepting of the universe and Nigel isn't quite himself.
> 
> That being said, it is what it is and maybe I'll pick it up again one day, but here it is as things are at this time (Jan 2017)

Once upon a time in New York City, there lived a community of supernatural creatures in a borough known as “Fabletown”. The Fables who live within its limits immigrated from their Homelands. There are some whose ancestors (or they, themselves) landed hundreds of years ago who think their allegiance is to America first, rather than designated to their ancestral Homeland. (Well, this and the fact that NYC is a bit stifling over a few hundred years, despite its charms.) So quite a few have spread across the United States in order to follow their dreams and pursue better use of their natural abilities. The Dakotas are a particular favorite for magic-wielders, with their natural energies and rural landscape allowing for more powerful spells. It’s through the use of these magical spells called “Glamour” that they are able to protect their secret community from the ‘mundane’ world. (Mundanes being separate from Humans as Humans could be part of Pack and in the know about the Fable - fucking Americans, seriously -but Mundies were just ignorant of the supernatural community.)

 

Fabletown was nearly over-populated, there was always construction going on for one reason or another, sirens went off at all times of the night, and there were far too many domestic disputes for what they were and where they were...

 

And it was better than fucking Bucharest.

 

Anywhere is basically better than Bucharest, but for Nigel, New York was basically heaven on earth. The way he saw it, the further he was from Gabi and her Charlie, the fucking better. Fucking chickenwing of a Medium. Practically a Mundane, in Nigel’s opinion.

 

The world’s changed.

 

The world, of course, changes all the time and people have been talking about vampires and werewolves, parasitic people closer to beast than man who will drain the life out of you both literally and metaphorically, since they lived in caves and generally used gestures and grunts to convey their message. Nearly every culture on the planet, as far as the humans know at least, has their own version of the paranormal and, with the advent of the internet, interest has only increased. Sure, nowadays Mundies (seriously, fuck Americans and their terminology) are more likely to think of them as a joke than anything to be revered or feared, but that was safer for everyone involved.

 

Of course, mistakes happen in these modern times. With technology came security systems, which included cameras, and really this is where everything starts to unravel for Nigel. He had a few places he liked to allow his Wolf to take over, particularly during full moons, that were private and secluded. No cameras. No people. They were, however, in-town so he could monitor his territory still, but it was necessary to transform in private to remain secret. There's a reason why they keep themselves secret and hidden from the Mundies, after all… but fucking Gabi. She knew they had installed cameras and didn’t tell him and now… Now she has a video of him becoming The Wolf. It isn’t pretty, he’s seen it. And now? Now he’s well and truly fucked because The Council saw it and now he’s in fucking Fabletown like a godddamn R-rated Disney character.

 

He knows he’s lucky she didn’t take it to the Mundanes because they’d come for him. Hunters. Scientists… And really? What the fuck. Leaving him for a Medium. An American, no less, who looked like he could be taken down by a fucking stiff breeze. He wasn’t a provider. He wasn’t a protector. He couldn’t defend HIMSELF let alone Gabi… God. Gabi. Whatever the fuck she was. Nigel still doesn’t know and he’d lain with her, made her his Second, had designs on making her his Mate – They shared a life! She knew everything about him, and, he'd thought, he knew everything about her. She smelled like kindness and resin and animal hide and hurt and blood and brick and Something. He’d thought it meant she was Mate but, obviously not.

 

Scents are fucked, anyway, and maybe they only detect people who're compatible with you or give you a hint to who would bear you the strongest babies but regardless, non-Weres didn’t feel them, didn’t feel the Pull of Mate, not even Mediums or whatever the fuck Gabi is could feel the Call. Only Weres, as far as Nigel could tell,were able to feel it and be driven insane with the fact that your beloved, the person you're meant to be with, is off fucking someone else and being happy while you're just lying around being miserable and wasn’t _that_ just a slice of Hell? A werewolf (or -cat or whatever the fuck) found themselves with a Mate who wasn’t also one of Them, was then assigned the task of convincing them it was “real”. This usually meant a long, respectful courtship with rules and gestures and tiers that, eventually, lead to Matehood. There’s always a chance this person would say no, of course, find their ‘Wolf or whatever lacking, at which point the courting Were would have to back off, respect their decision, and not interfere when they moved on to supposedly greener pastures… Courtship takes time, though, obviously, and sometimes is so subtle no one could even say for sure if one step had been taken or not. Regardless, it was better than going batshit fucking crazy, which had happened more often than anyone liked to admit to a Were who had lost their Mate to the capriciousness of man. Like Nigel. With Gabi. God, sometimes he was still so mad at her that his hands would Change and his eyes would flash without him realizing it, hurting so much it felt like something was alive in his chest, trying to tear itself out and run to Gabi and curl up at her feet.

 

And he’d embarrassed himself during that whole Charlie fiasco, anyway.

 

Nigel was strong, damnit. He' was a Leader, the head Alpha and that still means something with or without her and he’d have to be a fucking example for the pack and the surrounding territories, didn’t he? Leave without a fuss, both the country and his failed Courtship. The drawn out process of Courting existed for reasons just like this and though it was meant to guarantee success, that didn’t mean it was perfect and that didn’t mean that sometimes you just had to let shit go.

 

No matter how much your inner Wolf howled in complaint and loneliness, cavernously clawing like a pit of despair combined with a hunger he’d never known was even possible.

 

But if she didn’t want him, he had to let her go. Getting the Council involved was just… a bitch thing to do, really, he just wanted her to know what he was going through, that he'd do anything to keep her, but now...  The other packs back home were mocking him, for his display of weakness and for nearly dying because of it – because of a single Rejection – and being shipped off to fucking America like it was the Old Times. He had people relying on him, Were and human and Other alike were under his care in that section of Bucharest and he’d be damned if he let any one of them come to harm, especially over something like Gabi and her weakling, so he fucking left like a goddamn adult.

 

So now here he was in New York Fucking City. The Big Apple. Chasing down other supernatural creatures that were all too human for their own good. And sure, the Pack system in America was fucked but, luckily, most of the Weres and Creatures actually within Fabletown were still like back home, still more like their wild counterparts than the truly American packs.

 

American Weres acted more like prisoners than the actual Packs they were supposed to be. Packs in the Old Country exist to raise their young. They're family-oriented, expanded communities filled with people of all ability levels, supernatural and not. If you grew up with the right people, Pack should mean Family, no matter your origins, whether you were born into it or were human, Pack fucking _means_ something. That you had somewhere to go, people to look after you and vice versa. It means large groups of people of mixed backgrounds – Were and magic users and shapeshifters and humans alike – living in large family groups and inviting other people to join in for loud dinners, louder celebrations, dancing and singing and too many noses in your business. It means people falling over themselves to give each other food, to help, to nag, half-shifted children running around and yipping at each other. And now… Fuck. Now that was all ripped away from him. Nigel didn’t have a Pack here, not yet, and American Packs were all about hierarchy, all about power and who was fucking who and who had more power and land and the fucking POLITICS, Jesus Christ.

 

Of course, it wasn’t exactly their fault – they’re descendants of prisoners, after all, and that’s how they're raised and it’s not like Nigel is gonna go out there and tell them their history, but damn, if he doesn’t miss the noise and comfort of Pack. A house filled with noise and good-natured bickering and sniping; people sometimes sleeping four-or-more to a bed, people sleeping on every available surface, really, when they needed the extra reassurance or cuddle or just wanted to not be alone.

 

But you play the hand you’re dealt.

 

The efficiency he’d been ‘graciously’ provided by the Council when he’d been extradited from his Homeland for attacking Charlie after the Rejection and Changing in Public (which, in general, was a matter-of-course, but if you got a record of it, if you got someone like fucking _Gabi_ with a vendetta against you, it wasn’t difficult to trump up the charge and get booted out of your fucking home because you did what was natural) and charged with seventy THOUSAND hours of community service because why the fuck not, might as well give him something to do while he’s trapped in some fucking nightmare. At least they put him around other ‘Weres. There was a whole family of them taking up half of the four-plex they’d stuck him in, his being the only efficiency and located in the attic. Albanian Muslim Werewolves, though. Fuckin’ hell, who would’ve thought. Friendly enough folks, always willing to share their halal foods and stories. They seemed to like Nigel’s gruff demeanor better than the previous tenant’s, though they refused to speak ill of him. He didn’t smoke at their house, which was the entire four-plex in Nigel's opinion, and even tried not to swear around them because he's a fucking gentleman, okay, he knows to be respectful in someone else's fucking house and though he may be a mutt he isn’t a mongrel. They let him in because they worried, because all Weres look after each other even when you were far from home, and Nigel would be lying his ass off if he said he didn’t appreciate it.

 

The efficiency was just that. Efficient. One giant room plus a bathroom, and that suited him just fine. It wasn’t like he was planning on having company anyway, and it was damned convenient having everything within sight - he actually sorta understood that whole "open concept" shit the Head Alpha downstairs had been talking about - she was considering turning their half of the four-plex into a single household and her Alpha-mate was deferring. Nigel suspected he just didn't want to do the work in winter, and who could blame him.

 

As Nigel’s a born Were, the barrier between “wolf” and “man” is a lot hazier than it would be for someone who is Bitten. He doesn’t think of himself as being human or being Wolf, regardless of his outward form, because he’s neither – he’s a Werewolf. Some of the bitten, particularly Betas and Omegas, tend to think of their wolf-forms as some sort of mystical “other” that lives within themselves. It’s probably a coping mechanism or some shit, whatever the fuck, he’s not a fucking psychiatrist. He’s aware he’s more inclined to see things in natural, simplistic terms than most Creatures do (though they call them Fables here, what a stupid fucking name, fucking _Americans_ ), even Bitten Weres (unless they’re bitten as small children) don’t think like born ones. They grow up like this, there’s no separation of the self – he’s always a werewolf and sometimes he’s more wolf and sometimes he’s more man but he’s always neither and that’s just more than fine with him.

 

He shrugged his jacket on, a brown leather thrift shop thing he’d found when he’d landed and found New York somehow even more bitter cold than fucking Bucharest and wasn’t that just a feat of nature. It still vaguely smelled like its previous owner but it was quickly being overpowered by Nigel’s Alpha scent and cigarettes and it fit like a second skin, so fuck it. He tromped down the steps to the outside and was about to light-up when he smelled it.

 

The air was different. It felt softer. Sweeter. Urgent.

 

To a human, that would probably be meaningless. Hell, Nigel wasn’t even sure if it made any sense to himself. Nigel frowned slightly, wondering what it was and whether it merited mentioning to the pack. It wouldn’t be the first time Nigel sensed something the others were ignorant to. As he is (was) an Alpha with a pack eighty people strong, (including children) his already preternatural abilities and senses are strengthened and able to perceive even more than the average Were or an Alpha with fewer numbers. Even though he was apart from them, and his connection to them was waning, his senses had gone into overdrive when Gabi so thoroughly embarrassed him and the neighboring packs started edging in. It had tapered off some, of course, but he still felt wired, on edge. This didn't smell like trouble it felt fey, maybe. There was something calling to him, wanting him to chase it. It felt like elusive happiness and warmth, and he needed to find it. He felt twin itching sensations in his belly and at the back of his head near the top of his spine, something was calling to him, and it was was important he leave. Right. Now.

He closed his eyes and let himself Change, just a little. It stretched up within him, filling his biceps and shoulders first, making him stand taller as his chest expanded naturally to accommodate the feeling and broaden his chest, his lungs pulling in air deeper and wider. A sensation, like fire-warmed fur, slid up his neck and into his ears and mouth, his eyes and nose feeling heated as they changed. He opened his eyes and breathed deeply again. He heard a noise behind him and he looked to see his downstairs neighbor, the head Alpha of the Albanian family. She had sensed a change in him but didn't know what it was for. Words were already retreating from his mind and all he could muster was, "G'back inside, it's for me." She looked around quickly, though he knew she was really listening for anything that could be threatening her home. Finding nothing, she made meaningful eye contact with him, nodded once, and went back in the house.

The world was different like this, his senses more acute but thought processes a little more animalistic. Words were slow to come and when they did, they were short. Gesture was easier, but difficult to interpret, and he didn't know American Sign Language. He sighed. The feeling in his body tightened, pulling at his belly, telling him to _run._

The sounds of his footfalls seemed to echo in his heartbeat as he lost himself to that feeling, trusting it to lead him where he needed to go. He started smiling, laughing at himself and the situation and the feeling of _freedom_ he felt just then, running through the streets of Manhattan. He'd forgotten, somehow, how good it felt to move and get his heart pumping outdoors, even in a city.

He ran aimlessly, or so he thought, until he found The Scent. This is what he was meant to find. He made a pleased noise in his throat before honing on the characteristics of the scent. It was human. It smelled like something he wanted to roll in and mark. It smelled Tired. It smelled like People and Canned Soup and Stale Air and… And… Something. Nigel frowned again, stretching his hands out before clenching them into fists. The Wolf feeling grew bigger in his chest and from one blink to the next he went from smelling the Scent to seeing its imprint on the air. It was like an actual, physical trail in the air waving at him, waiting for him to follow it.

So he did.

Everything was simpler like this, when he let the Wolf come to the surface. Connections came easier. Long distances traversed without much thought. It was like he was a passenger in his own mind, with the control to come into power at any time. It was pleasant, clean, even. He followed the trail in the air, stopping sometimes where it was stronger than others and where different emotions had come to the Fore within the human. Whoever this was, they felt strongly. One block they were Exasperated. Then Confused. They were Overwhelmed here, Exhausted there. Nigel made a wordless noise of displeasure in the back of his throat at the negative emotions. He didn’t like this person being upset. For some reason, it was important for this person to feel Peaceful, even Happy, but Nigel couldn’t figure out why. He was getting closer, though, the scent was getting stronger. He could literally taste the Scent now. It tasted like salt and lavender and excellent cheese, but not unpleasant. He could feel his ears ringing, straining to hear the human he was tracking.

He didn’t know how long he’d been jogging, following this Scent, though it had to be a while the way his shirt was sticking to his skin. It was unimportant. He wasn’t winded, he was _excited,_  and he was So. Close.

And then the Scent abruptly stopped; it was so sudden, the Wolf completely retreated within him and it was just Nigel dumbly standing in front of a laundry room. He blinked slowly at the mystifying object before he fully regained himself. Of course.  A door. He sighed internally at the dumb, glorified dog that lived within himself and opened it, walking into the unnaturally bright space. Immediately, he was assaulted by a heady mix of Laundry (dirt-sweat-lint-softener-cleaner-bleach-cotton-soft)– and the Scent he’d been following. Shit. Fuck.

The world stopped. He may be having a heart attack. He might be dying. The Scent belonged to a man. About his height but slighter, with his back towards him while standing at a washing machine in just his boxers. His head bent to look inside the washer, his brown hair curling at his nape with sweat. There was no mistaking it, there was no one else here and there was _heat_. He could feel heat in his toes, fingertips, cheeks, like he was standing too close to a fire. Nigel cleared his throat and the other man whipped around, startled, and Nigel tried to look as unimposing as possible.

Judging by the other man’s face, he failed spectacularly.

Nigel opened his mouth to speak but words failed him. What was _language_ ? This man was glorious, words weren’t enough. This was Mate. This was Home. How did he not notice? How didn’t he _see it_ before now? He wanted to burrow in this man's chest, or pull him into Nigel's, and just breathe and...

He closed his mouth again, swallowing, steeling himself. He moved his head slightly forward so he was looking at the man’s knees before moving his right hand to his heart and bowing slightly before looking up again at the man to see if he understood the gesture.

The man was as still as death, and if it wasn’t for his rapid breathing Nigel would have thought him to be an apparition. The man licked his lips quickly before taking a series of deep, steady breaths. In…. Out… Nigel cocked his head to the side as he began to straighten himself. “No, wait!” the man shouted, causing Nigel to freeze and raise a sardonic eyebrow. “I know this. I read about it. Just… Give me a minute. I need… Just a moment. Okay?” Nigel nodded once and the other man closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, before nodding a few times and opening his eyes again.

He raised his right hand, clenching it into a fist before moving it over his own heart, then away again while opening his palm. He did it almost robotically, like he was afraid of getting the gesture wrong. He smiled briefly, but broadly, moving his hands in front of himself to fiddle with his (fucking gorgeous) fingers. “Sorry. I just... I never thought it would happen… Well, ever, actually. But especially not to me. I’m sorry. I’m Adam.”

“Nigel."

The man, _Adam,_ shifted the weight from one foot to the other before crossing his arms over his chest. "So.. Uh, what happens now?"

Nigel straightened up, putting his hands to his sides, overly aware, as always, how one needed to be gentle with humans. Especially this one. Something was off, he could already tell. "Right now? We wait for your clothes." Nigel lifted his hands to his jacket from his shoulders and, slowly, telegraphing every movement, took it off and placed it around Adam's shoulders.

"Are you scent-marking me already?" Adam blurted, immediately flushing and looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Of course not," Nigel huffed, pleasantly surprised, "I'm… protecting your modesty." _From myself,_ he finished inside his own head.

Adam frowned a little at that, not sure what exactly he meant, but also pleased at being covered in the chilly room, and thus filled with so many things to say, said nothing. A few moments of silence passed before Nigel gestured to the dingy chair and table set in the corner. Obviously meant for outdoor use, and more or less dirty because of it, they were still a sight better than standing and staring at each other. "Might as well get comfortable, darling, we'll be here for a while."

 

Adam nodded and sat gingerly in the chair Nigel had gestured to. "Who--Who are you?"

 

Nigel sat down across from him, "I'm Nigel, I think I said that before."   


Adam frowned pensively then clarified, "No, I mean, who _are_ you? why are you in my apartment building. I don't… I don't remember you moving in."

 

Oh, that. "Let's take a step back, okay, what do you know of what just happened over there, by the washer, gorgeous?"

 

"I - um - I read about it in a book. There were werewolves and monsters and other fairytale creatures in it. I don't… I didn't think it was real, it was just a book Beth liked and gave me before she left because I liked it, because it… I liked it because it read like non-fiction and I guess it was nonfiction, actually, but Beth said it was a romance and I liked how simple everything was, it was honest and.. I don't know. I didn't think it would happen ever in real life, and here you are." He shoved his hands into his pockets nervously, forgetting they weren't his pockets until he found cigarettes, a lighter, and a badge. He pulled the latter out and stared at it, it looked official but it didn't say NYPD on it. "Are you a policeman, Nigel?"

 

"Sort of, darling, I think of it as being a bouncer for an entire neighborhood. Good people that sometimes make bad choices."

 

Adam nodded at this, still thumbing the official-looking, yet very strange, metal pendant. "Which neighborhood?"  
  
"Near the Bronx, I can't tell you exactly where because, honestly, I don't fucking know, I just moved here."

 

Adam blinked and looked up, interested, "From where?"

 

"Bucharest, it's --"

 

"Oh! I know about Bucharest. In Bucharest, there's an observatory that was built between 1908 and 1910 for an admiral who loved astronomy. It's open to the public, now, and it was recommended by the Amateur Astronomer's Association of New York… The oldest observatory on Long Island was only built in 1928."

 

Nigel smirked, "Is that so, darling?"

 

Adam shifted uncomfortably, looking back down at the badge he still held in his hands, mindless of the fact his chest was still bared to Nigel's eyes. "My name isn't darling, it's Adam."

 

"I know that, darling, it's an endearment, it means I think you're beautiful."

 

The _thunkthunkthunk_ of the washing machine chugging along behind them was monotonous but not unpleasant in the ensuing silence. Nigel barely noticed, staring unabashedly, taking in all of Adam's movements; the flutter of his eyelashes, the way he splayed his fingers on Nigel's jacket and tap-tap-tap'd against it in a rhythm that did nothing except call to attention how long his fingers were. Finally, Nigel asked, "What do you know of…" he gestured vaguely towards himself,"my people, Adam?"

 

At this, Adam straightened up, eyes gleaming. "Oh, I know it's a secret. And there's a lot of information out there but it's not all factual. There was this woman who moved into Beth's apartment after she left who could… Well, she told me she was weird and I liked her because I'm also not like other people and she was very nice… But then one night I started having an attack and she left and a dog came into my apartment. At first I was afraid because I don't like dogs, I don't like new things either, and I definitely do not like pets or anything that sheds or smells but it just sat there. It was sitting there so nicely, quiet, being warm and soft and I pet it and it was nice and it calmed me enough that I went to sleep. The next day, she was in my kitchen wearing my clothes, which Beth sometimes did and some people like to do that after sex, which was very strange because she and I had never had sex, but I guess it was better than her walking around my apartment naked, which she said she would be after changing back from being a dog. Oh, yeah, she was the dog. She said she's trained as a service animal for people like me. And that she volunteers, as a dog, at the local library to help kids get used to animals. She can fully transform into a dog but it's rare, she says, because it means she's the daughter of an Alpha mated pair who were also the results of Alpha mated pairs. No one actually understands the real genetics of it because it's a secret but different pairs create different offspring, even humans can come from werewolf pairs, so sometimes you have to look back three or four generations before you see someone was Yupik and that's why her full dog Change is a Malamut..." Adam trailed off, glancing nervously at Nigel who had a strange look on his face. Adam's forehead scrunched as he tried to figure out if Nigel was bored or merely listening, "I-- I'm sorry," he said, folding in on himself, wrapping the jacket more firmly around his midsection, "I talk a lot when I get excited."

 

Nigel shook his head, raised his hand as if to touch Adam, thought better of it, and tapped the table between them instead. "Don't apologize, darling, I'm listening."

 

Adam looked up at him again, just briefly, before smiling and ducking his head. Nigel made a noncommittal noise, entranced by the flush on Adam's cheeks that he could see went down his neck to his collarbones and...

 

The washer buzzed loudly. _Thank Christ._

 

"Today is laundry day," Adam said, heading to the machine, "I don't normally do it… like this… but I spilled Catherine's coffee on myself this morning and then my lunch was soup - Minestrone with reduced sodium crackers - because I promised to try something new at lunch three times a week and then I missed my bus and it's the last one so I had --" He opened the washer, peering into it, his hands on the edge as he sighed deeply before continuing, "I'm not like other people, Nigel -"

Nigel stood, the sound of his chair scraping the floor cutting Adam's sentence short, he sighed as his phone trilled in his pants pocket. "I have to go back to work, now, darling, but I would like for us to meet again. Would you like that?"

Adam turned back around slowly, fleetingly meeting his eyes before looking away again, "Yes."

The corner of Nigel's mouth quirked quickly upwards, and he clicked his boot heels together. "Until then, sweet Adam."

Adam was motionless for a moment before inclining his head forward, his eyes downcast to the floor as he gestured to the doorway. "Until then, Nigel."


End file.
